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1993 Volvo 240
Built for nuclear families, adopted by hipsters, and raced by enthusiasts, The Volvo 240 is the Unreal Tournament of the automotive world: forever being rebuilt and re-purposed. MEAT! You've earned THE MEAT! Transcript FADE IN, MR. REGULAR, THE VOICE: I AM BACK…I’M GONNA GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT, I’M GONNA GIVE YOU WHAT YOU NEED! WHAT I’VE GOT’S BIG, WHAT I’VE GOT’S BLACK… *groan* COCKS DAILY! (TEXT: #cocksdaily) --- INTRO SONG, THE ROMAN Finish your vegetables, time for meat, But not the kind that you can beat, It’s time to give what these cars deserve, Regular Cars, all rights reserved! --- MONOLOGUE by MR REGULAR Yeah, this is the Volvo 240! It was designed in the 70s – no air conditioning and the official car of the Cold War. This is a Frankenstein monster of function over form – it’s so slow that if one of these rolled out of Doc Brown’s trailer, Marty wouldn’t have gone anywhere. This is a rolling monument to minimalism and showcases Volvo’s determination to remain stuck in it’s ways for as long as possible, like a 90-year-old unashamedly using the term ‘negro’. Begrudgingly, the Volvo 240 accepted an airbag before retiring from public eyes around the same time as Johnny Carson. By 1993, the Volvo 240 had descended into its Barcalounger with the Chrysler New Yorker, Ford Fairmont and other boxy OAPs. But it couldn’t get comfortable because the 240 was brought out of retirement in 2002 for the worst reason possible. Well, like Pabst Blue Ribbon and tweed waistcoats, the uncool upstate New York style of the 240 attracted HIPSTERS. Oh, they loved it, oh they loved this car – hipsters just flocked to the 240 and- TONE: Eh, this beer sucks, give me another. This vest makes me look Republican, I own five. My car makes me look old, heh, I love it. TONE: Imagine thousands of them, thousands of: Underweight, (text follows) Micro Korg Playing, Mattress-on-the-floor sleeping, Rent-dodging, Dirty dish stacking, Chain smoking, Tattoo accumulating, Scarf collecting, (more aggressive) Class-skipping, Derrida miss-quoting, First draft turning-in, Assignment-extension begging, Unnecessary Access-Card applying, Weed-bumming, SCENESTERS, torquing 210-pound Renn Fair Chicks (TEXT: Renn Fair Chicks) in the ample backseat of this perennial family car! Ugh, I can just imagine the screwdriver, Easy Cheese erections, thrill-stabbing that DeviantArt Diva just to check that box before moving onto A-cup gamer girls! Ugh, Volvo 240: the missionary position of the automotive industry. So, the car languished from no oil changes to no oil changes and countless trips to record stores and sketchy North Philly headshops. Volvo 240: it’s a loveable loser for every upward-nosed, aging George McGovern supporter looking for a new hopeless cause. But, the Pantene provie moved on, as their fleeting attention spans jumped from one peak to another popular peak. Mercifully, the 4th-gen Jetta has become the current chariot for insufferable dickheads, freeing up the 240 for enthusiasts to enjoy. But what’s there to enjoy? I mean, the engine does have some usable torque, but the block is cast from the same-quality pig iron that oozed from Hopewell Furnace. It’s like an old house, but like an old house, the Volvo 240 uses ceramic fuses and used them all the way to 1993. But this Swedish brick is reliable, right? (TEXT: Right?) Well, this is still 1970s technology with bare-minimum 1990s advancements. Coil-packed distributor and vacuum-hose rousing with the complexity of the human circulatory system. The motor mounts heave and flex upon ignition, and the 240 wishes it was a muscle car, but it never had the discipline for the gym. Large motor, larger turn radius, UGH, STAY THE COURSE, MOUNT YOUR HORSE! MEDICARE ENDORSE, DRESS-CODE ENFORCE! HMM, 1974, 1983, FINAL YEAR, FACE YOUR FEARS, RELEASE YOUR TEARS! PUSH MY BUTTONS, WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? ‘Capacitor Battery Backup!’ UHH, TRIM MY FORESKIN AND BLOW AIR FROM ALL THE VENTS! This is a car that tells you to do everything you need to know about the suburban American scene in the late 1980s-QUALUDES! CLACKY DOORS AND CRUSTY DRAWERS! Trying to accelerate onto the turnpike is dicier than trying to jerk off under your gown during outdoor Commencement – you may get there, but at what cost? Ooh, yeah, my greatest accomplishment was jacking off in the upper-deck of a South African Airways flight 747-400 somewhere over the Azores. (TEXT: I’m not lying.) Volvo! --- OUTRO REGULAR: Alright, go ahead. *The engine starts, rattling aggressively, making Mr. Regular laugh* REGULAR: Look at that thing! Category:YouTube Partner Category:Reviews